


This Is For Your Eyes Only

by bloodsugar



Series: My Heart Only Beats For You Without Stopping, Telling Me I’m Ready To Go [2]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Bundesliga, M/M, and hot i hope, i think, neumer, sex with feels, they're just so fucking sweet together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-11 19:00:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2079471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodsugar/pseuds/bloodsugar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They make it to Manuel’s hotel room in a blur of stolen touches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. This Is For Your Eyes Only 1/2

**Author's Note:**

> This work is a part of a series, and is a direct sequel to "I Tell It To Resist But My Heart Won't Listen". I recommend you go read that first if you haven't! :) I will write and post more Neumer soon so if you're interested, I do suggest you subscribe to this series or to me. My tumblr is http://footiez.tumblr.com/ for those of you who want to follow me or give me prompts.
> 
> Finally, a big thank you to everyone who commented here and on Tumblr. Every comment means the world to me. I hope you enjoy this fic. Please keep giving me feedback ^_^

 

 

 

 

 

They make it to Manuel’s hotel room in a blur of stolen touches and stumbling through the thankfully empty hallways of the hotel’s 11th floor. Chris clings to him, hands all over Manuel’s body like he’s trying to make sure Manuel is real, that this is really happening. The goalkeeper can’t quite believe it himself. A few minutes ago they were avoiding the cab driver’s awkward looks, 20 minutes ago they were in the bar making ridiculous excuses for leaving the party so early so that their team mates wouldn’t suspect they were actually off to fuck.

 

Fuck. That is what they came back here to do. It sends a shiver of excitement through Manuel’s body, and he can’t help but look Chris up and down like the younger man is put on display just for his entertainment.

 

“Come on, the door, unlock the door.” The boy is muttering into his neck, his breath hot and heavy in Manuel’s neck from where he is pressed up against his side, his long figure curving perfectly into the goal keeper’s. Manuel lets himself relish in the sensation of a tall, lean body against his. This boy, even from a strictly physical standpoint, is his equal. He is tall, and strong, young and so beautiful. He nearly kisses the blond right there in the hallway, lured in by the appeal of being able to do it without having to bend down, and barely restrains himself.

 

When they do make it inside, it is in a hurry. This can’t happen soon enough, is their shared thought, and just being in the same page makes everything click. Manuel presses Chris against the wall, their bodies pushed so tight together there is barely room to breathe, but it’s so good. Who needs to breathe when they can kiss until they’re dizzy instead?

 

The younger man’s mouth is hot, welcoming, opening up for him immediately. His lips are soft and sweet and he doesn’t even taste of alcohol yet Manuel is intoxicated with this kiss, with every part of it. Chris’ arms slide around his shoulders - embracing him and holding him close. In response, Manuel rolls his hips forward into his, shuddering at the desperate little moan the boy releases into his mouth before kissing him harder, tongue seeking his in a delicious tingling dance.

 

Chris is flushed and panting beautifully when they break apart, and the sight alone pulls Manuel in again, instinct leading him as he nips at the boy’s bottom lip, then at his strong jaw, his slender supple neck. The blond arches against him with a broken little sound, hands scrambling at Manuel’s back, fingers sinking in with need and desperation. The goalkeeper kisses at Chris’ skin, murmuring nothings into it to soothe him, but they are both too riled up, wanting this too badly. He grips the younger man’s hips and pushes their groins together, grunting as Chris spreads his legs and thrusts forward against him.

 

“Shit, fuck… I want this so bad.” The boy confesses with a breathy whine and a twist of his pelvis against Manuel’s, and the older man barely stops himself from sinking his teeth into the spot where Chris’ shirt reveals a pale shoulder.

 

“You’re killing me, baby.” He mutters, his blood boiling as he slides his hands up and down Christoph’s thighs, feeling him up without thinking. The younger man stares at him, mouth slightly agape and breathing heavily, then attacks him with his lips again, kissing him hard and demanding and relentless. Manuel returns the favor in kind, pushing Chris against the wall until they both groan, the air driven out of them by the sheer force of their proximity. It’s too much but it is perfect, all they need is more of it.

 

He pulls the blond close, steering him toward the bed without letting go for a moment, feeling a heated sense of pride at the way Chris presses that hot body of his even closer, wanting this just as much. They kiss messily, tongues tangling briefly, lips sliding together wetly before traveling over the other’s skin, too. Manuel’s fingers find the boy’s crotch and he cups it over his jeans, squeezing a little, grinning when the boy bucks and moans, throwing his head back a little and baring his neck. He’s perfect and Manuel is going to have all of him.

 

Guiding Chris to the bed, he pushes him gently on it, leaning over him to help remove the blond’s shirt, then to work on his jeans’ fly when he catches the younger man give him a look laced with nerves and uncertainty. He pauses, briefly, reaching to trace gentle fingers over the boy’s cheek with a reassuring smile. He’s nervous too, even if he knows how to keep it in.

 

Chris licks his lips slowly, relaxing a little bit and sits up some. “You should know I…” he starts but hesitates, bright blue eyes trailing over Manuel’s face anxiously, then his jaw line sets, determined. “I haven’t been… with a man before.”

 

This stops Manuel, stuns him momentarily, and the next moment he is hard as rock, throbbing and straining in his jeans like never before.

 

Christoph – beautiful, vibrant, talented, young Chris has never had sex with a man, and beyond that he has chosen _Manuel_ to be his first. The goal keeper’s body is on fire, his mind reeling with the realization that he’s going to introduce the younger man to acts the boy has only seen in porn and/or fantasized about. He has never considered virginity to be a gift of any sort before, but if he had to describe what this was, that is the word he would choose without thinking twice about it.

 

He finds himself cursing under his breath in pure, unapologetic awe. The predator side of him wants to devour Chris as he sits/lies there on the bed, waiting to be taken; but the friend and more-to-be side needs to wrap this young man in his arms and protect him.

 

“Are you going to do me or what?” Chris’ words bring Manuel back into the moment. The boy is looking up at him expectantly, a mixture of anticipation, teasing and worry on his face. The goal keeper nods mutely, eyes traveling down the younger man’s long body. The kid has no reason whatsoever to doubt Manuel’s intentions to show him a good time. Nothing short of a miracle could stop either of them now.

 

He gives Chris a little smirk before going to his suitcase and rummaging through it impatiently for condoms and if he’s lucky lube too. But he hadn’t planned on this, so there’s no lube, they’ll have to make due with spit and lots of preparation.

 

The blond has discarded his jeans by the time Manuel makes it back to the bed, and he’s lying on his back, one toned leg raised on the bed as the other dangles from the edge. The older man takes a long moment to appreciate the view before he crawls on top of Chris, pushing him upwards to the center of the bed, hands sliding down to the boy’s legs and tugging at his boxers. Chris flushes prettily at that, in embarrassment Manuel looks forward to fucking out of him and wiggles some on the sheets, spreading his legs some.

 

Manuel lets his hands travel to the younger man’s thighs, kneading at them, wanting to put Chris at ease if there are any nerves lingering in the blond’s body and sure enough the boy sighs and reaches for him. Manuel lets himself be pulled in for a deep kiss, first following Chris’ lead, then taking it himself, leaning into the body below him until their chests are touching. His fingers move between the younger man’s thighs meanwhile, leading to pet his ass cheeks, his balls, and then sliding to press behind them. Chris jerks against him, gasping and clutches at Manuel’s shoulders, legs rising on either side of his torso to give him more access.

 

When they break apart he pulls back far enough to swipe a lazy look over the younger man’s body and his dick throbs eagerly in his own jeans at the sight of Chris spread out so open and ready for him. He reaches between Chris’ legs again and wants to ask if the blond touches himself there when he masturbates, but the question shoots right out of his mind when Chris takes his hand. The boy pulls Manuel’s hand to his mouth and takes two of his fingers in readily, his cheeks flushing a deeper color, eyelids fluttering closed in shame and self consciousness. Yet he sucks on the fingers, slathering them in saliva, setting Manuel’s body on fire anew.

 

By the time Manuel has slipped two fingers inside of him, he’s harder than he can ever remember being. He can’t stop looking at Chris’ body, shifting and twitching on the bed – because of him and for him. All that exists in this moment is that tight heat around his fingers, welcoming his touch, pulling him in. All he can hear are the breathy little sounds Chris is making as he pushes down against his hand. Manuel’s breathing is heavy as he strokes the younger man’s inner thigh, leaning down to press a kiss to the soft skin there.

 

“You’re so hot, you know that?” he murmurs, glancing up over the length of the blond’s lean body and giving him a heated look. “You’re perfect.”

 

Chris shakes at that, panting for air like a drowning man. Manuel is not a man of many words, but this boy has brought out a side of him that needs to voice his thoughts. “Perfect.” He repeats, chest swelling with satisfaction when the blond bites at his own lip to muffle a whine.

 

Three fingers in and stretching him, the boy’s legs spread wider, looking so inviting – Manuel wonders what it will feel like to be cradled between them. To feel that soft skin, the toned muscle underneath it squeezing him, pulling him in and holding him close while he trust, thrust, thrust. His dick throbs at the fantasy, and he can’t wait to satiate this need.

 

Chris trembles when Manuel finds that sweet spot inside him, and when he presses on it purposefully the younger man’s back arches right off of the bed, a sharp cry leaving his lips as he stares up at the ceiling, unseeing. Manuel alternates between that stimulation and stretching, over and over and over until his body feels like it might self combust and Chris is squirming, a moaning mess on the bed.

 

“I think… ah, I think if I was more ready I’d… uhhh explode.” Chris pants out; barely manage to string the sentence together, making Manuel grin. He did this. He gave this boy whom he has been fantasizing about for a month pleasure and he’s about to give him more of it.

 

He rises and scoots up on the bed, and before he can reach for his jeans’ zipper, Chris’ hands beat him to it, dexterous and eager, like he has undressed the goal keeper a million times before. It’s thrilling and exciting, and Manuel doesn’t even know why he expected there to be awkwardness between them when all there is is heat and want. Whether it is because of that desire or something else, he is undressed in record time, the younger man helping him shed his tee and throwing it across the hotel room. Manuel smiles down at him, leaning to kiss him, deep and hungry, Chris’ taste on his tongue nearly making him purr with it.

 

Condom on and hand on Chris’ hip, the other guiding himself between the younger man’s legs, Manuel lets out a shaky breath he didn’t realize he was holding in. He kisses the boy’s jaw and inches in, easier than expected, so easy it is just right – the smooth uninterrupted slide in until he’s balls deep.

 

“Jesus… fuck…” Chris curses breathlessly, raising his legs higher, opening up for him and Manuel’s hips grind into him firmly on instinct. The boy is tight, so tight and warm and soft inside. Manuel props Chris’ legs higher toward his chest, keeping them there and starts thrusting – using gravity to go nice and deep, grunting when the channel around him flutters and squeezes him hotly.

 

The pace is just on the slow side, but rhythmic, the mattress beneath their heated bodies dipping with their movements again, and again, and again. Chris’ initial sporadic groans turn into steady panting; reaching for the air they’re sharing and choking on it on the harder thrusts, moaning on the soft sensual ones. Manuel is addicted to hearing him like this, those are the sounds of pleasure he is the first and only man to urge out of Christoph’s gorgeous mouth. He spreads his legs some, seeking better purchase on the bed and rocks his pelvis faster into the younger man.

 

“Manu, ah… ah, yes, Manu!” Chris’ cries are breathless and needy and Manuel’s name has never sounded this beautiful. The younger man’s hands grip at his back as he rocks Chris into the bed, his lips finding the boy’s neck, placing open minded kisses all over.

 

Manuel has been hard since the cab ride and he doesn’t know how long he can last this first time, but he wants it to be good. It has to be good for Chris, has to be unforgettable and blush-inducing whenever remembered. He sinks his fingers in the blond’s waist and holds him in place, sliding in long and deep, pulling back fast then repeating at different angles until Chris cries out, loud and sharp into the air. The goalkeeper notes the twist of his hips and leans back, enough to brace his hands next to the boy’s torso and keeps at it, thrusting firmly, purposefully.

 

Chris is a lovely picture underneath him, hands alternating between twisting in the sheets and reaching for Manuel, stroking his thighs as he thrusts inside him. The younger man’s touch is gentle and heated, appreciative like he’s saying _‘yes, it’s good, you’re good’_ , his eyes half a mast as he looks up at Manuel, holding his gaze, his plush lips parted to let out the string of little moans he’s producing.

 

He is a vision.

 

Manuel feels the tug in his belly, warmth coiling through him deep and strong. He cants his hips forward, thrusting into Christoph hard, reaching that spot inside him and sliding over it. The younger man whines and stiffens, legs freezing in the air as he reaches to grasp his dick, giving Manuel the most delicious look of vulnerability the goalkeeper has seen in years. He holds Chris’ glazed over blue gaze and doubles his efforts, his hips snapping relentlessly into the boy.

 

The younger man whines and arches up, jerking himself fast and impatient. His mouth is wide open, gasping for it now, and it only drives Manuel to thrust into him harder, faster, deeper, which makes Chris heave and pant even more. It is the most beautiful dirty cycle of maddening pleasure, and they are not only a part of it, they are creating it together.

 

Manuel angles his hips on the in-stroke, pounding into Chris’ sweet spot, his hands squeezing the boy’s waist as their skin meets together. The younger man is looking at him, wide eyed and desperate, like he wants to say something, but it isn’t necessary, Manuel knows what it is. He keeps his gentle assault on the blond’s spot and reaches over to stroke his stomach and chest soothingly.

 

“That’s it.” He coos soothingly, rubbing gently at Chris’ skin as the boy lets out a breathless whimper. “Stay with me, feel me…” he emphasizes the last words by going faster still. The bed creaks beneath them under the pressure and Christoph shakes, crying out as he comes. He’s beautiful.

 

His orgasm prompts Manuel’s own, and his hips stutter hard, losing the pace he worked so hard to keep. All that matters is the tight squeeze of Chris’ body around him, the boy’s arms reaching out to pull him close against him. Manuel rides out his orgasm to the very end of the aftershocks, allowing his hips to send his last thrust deep, deep inside the blond’s hot body before pulling out and collapsing next to Chris.

 

They curl into each other instinctively, seeking the other’s touch, sighing into each other’s skin. Manuel means to get up and clean them both, but all he manages is to remove and dispose of the condom in the bin next to the bed. He slides an arm around Christoph’s waist and kisses the younger man’s shoulder, the boy’s arm already around his back.

 

Chris mumbles something against his shoulder but all Manuel hears is “…perfect.” Indeed, he thinks to himself, hand squeezing the boy’s waist idly before he drifts off.

 

 

 

 

 


	2. This Is For Your Eyes Only 2/2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a night of excellent sex with their team mate, lesser men might be hung up on their sexuality, reputation etc. Thankfully, Manu and Chris are more secure than that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to everyone who gave me feedback. Ladies, you really.. You made me feel like a good writer. Thank you. 
> 
> I hope everyone enjoys this continuation. Just one thing - lack of feedback is discouraging for me. I do appreciate kudos, but please, if you like my fics, take the time to comment as well.

 

 

 

 

Manuel wakes up in the wee hours of the morning, maybe it’s 5 or 6, 7 at best. He’s positive everybody else is sleeping, having come back from the bar at God knows what hour, if at all. Jérôme’s room on the other side of the wall is so quiet it might be empty, the goal keeper muses to himself before he has even cracked an eye open. Something about this morning is extra peaceful and calm, maybe it has to do all the adrenaline from the World Cup celebrations finally leaving his body. But then, there’s shifting on the bed next to him, and everything rushes back to him even before Manuel’s eyes open fully.

Chris is lying on the bed next to him - long, fit frame stretched out like a cat; sleepy pale face buried halfway into the pillow, long eyelashes like a curtain; full, soft lips puffy from sleep and parted just slightly, enough to look innocently inviting. Something tugs at Manuel’s chest at the sight of the midfielder - so youthful, so full of energy and life, yet so peaceful in his sleep, like nothing could bother him. Manuel idly hopes nothing ever does, especially now that they’ve achieved so much. They’re Weltmeister 2014 – the two of them, they did it together. And the way they’d celebrated the success in many ways rivaled the feeling of achievement itself. The older man doesn’t know why but waking up to Christoph like this feels like winning too.

Manuel doesn’t mean to be creepy and stare, but he also doesn’t want to drag the blond out of his sleep either, so slips out of the bed as carefully as he can, all the while keeping an eye out in case Chris stirs. Thankfully, the younger man seems to be sleeping deeply. Manuel pulls the sheet gently over his body, covering the boy all the way up to his shoulders, then satisfied with his work goes into the shower.

If showering without having inappropriate thoughts about his roommate during the World Cup duration was a difficult task, now it is straight up impossible. Manuel finds himself gripping his member tight, memories from last night coming back to him fast and easy, nearly overwhelming in their intensity. He has wanted this long enough, no wonder now that it has happened he can’t get it out of his head. And the best part of it all? Chris is right there, mere few feet away from him, warm and cuddly with sleep; maybe even ready to go another round if he isn’t sore. Manuel bites down a groan, mindful of the younger man still sleeping in the bed in the other room. The bed they had glorious, heated sex in only a few hours ago.

“Fuck.” Manuel curses under his breath when his orgasm sneaks up on him, shooting through his body hard, almost making him lose his footing. He figures eventually he can tell Chris about how into this he was; it’d surely make the younger man tease him happily for many months to come.

When he exits the bathroom, towel wrapped tight around his waist, he finds Chris awake and sitting up in the bed. The sheet Manuel used to cover him with has pooled around his slender hips, baring his chest. Manuel’s dick twitches under the towel at the image and if he hadn’t come already, he’d definitely be showing his interest. Instead, he raises his eyes to the younger man’s face and smiles at him.

Relief washes over Chris’ face and he returns the smile, looking sleepy, but otherwise content as he stretches a little.

“Oh good.” The corners of his lips twitch as he regards Manuel’s nearly naked state appreciatively. “I was hoping you hadn’t run off somewhere, screaming about your unquestionable heterosexuality.” He adds, his vivid blue eyes glistening.

Manuel snorts at that, going through his suitcase and taking out a pair of shorts along with a loose fitting t shirt. He nearly makes show of dropping the towel and putting the clothes on, enjoying Chris’ lingering gaze on his body and the way the younger man gulps, wit momentarily forgotten in favor of ogling. Once dressed, Manuel sits next to the blond on the bed, noting with satisfaction that yes, the boy is in fact still very much naked under that thin sheet. It is a lovely look on him.

“I think you can tell I don’t have that problem.” He wiggles his eyebrows at Christoph, grinning when a faint blush makes its way up the midfielder’s neck.

Chris chuckles a little, shoulders relaxing even further as he leans into Manuel’s space some –his body language paired up with his sheepish little grin make him look like he’s torn between desire and shyness. Manuel likes that look on him too if the heat coiling in his stomach is any indication.

They share a lingering look, then Manuel gives into his urges and lean in to kiss the younger man, pressing their lips together in a simple peck at first. Chris responds to it readily, body twisting to face the goalkeeper’s as he tilts his head to the side and licks at Manuel’s lower lip. The older man allows him to take the lead with it, relishing in the knowledge that the boy wants this, wants him.

They kiss deep and keep kissing until Manuel loses track of anything outside of the smooth slide of their tongues together and their lips meeting softly. He finds himself on his back, with Christoph lying half on top of him, their chests pressed together, the younger man humming in that calm, pleased way that makes Manuel feel like he’s taken good care of him. He slides his hands up the boy’s sides, stroking his naked back, massaging some warmth into him when he feels Chris shiver against him.

“You want some breakfast?” Manuel asks between kisses, smiling lazily up at the blond.

Chris shrugs a little, his eyebrows drawn together contemplatively like it’s a difficult question. “Well, I do,” he mutters a little, then kisses the goalkeeper again – deep, slow, intent – adding when they pull apart “but I don’t want to go down to the restaurant.”

At that, Manuel shrugs, happy to hear it since he has no plans to let Chris leave the bed anytime soon. “Room service, then.” He smirks, because the whole situation reminds him of a movie. He’s never actually had post-coital room service before. “Get the menu?”

They go through the room service menu together, sitting so close their shoulders are touching, Chris’ fingers drawing circles around Manuel’s knee. There is a brief push-and-pull on the choice of beverage, nothing out of the ordinary considering they could never choose in Brazil either, until they finally settle on a couple of Red Bulls and plain water. By the time they’ve both chosen what to eat, Manuel is hungry for more than an English breakfast, but what else is new. They end up making out some more, the menu tossed aside on the bed and forgotten, only remembered when Chris’ stomach growls.

 

Not much later – Manuel casts a look at the clock on the wall across from him and it is half past nine – Chris is munching happily on his third slice of bacon and smiling around the mouthful of it. Manuel thinks he can get used to this, even the extended silent periods feel comfortable enough that neither of them feels the need to fill them with small talk.

They briefly discuss check-out time, which is an hour and a half later, and that leads to Chris admitting that he’s in no hurry to go back to Mönchengladbach.

“We don’t even have a match for another couple of weeks.” He rolls his eyes a little, like someone has been pushing for him to go back regardless.

Manuel knows about that match, because it’s against Bayern Munich. “The one with us, right?” he asks to confirm, swallowing the last of his fried egg and leaving his napkin in the empty plate.

The younger man’s lips twitch and curl upwards. “Not with you, against you.” He corrects cheekily, but his eyes aren’t smiling. Manuel nods along in understanding.

“I know, I got used to you being on my team, kiddo.” He pats Chris’ leg gently, barely restraining his fingers from traveling up the naked skin until they reach a point that will make the boy’s body squirm and his bright eyes glaze over.

Chris ditches the last bits of his own meal and moves the plates to the bedside table before scooting closer to Manuel, their legs tangling together. “We’re still on the same team.” He says silkily, batting his eyelashes teasingly as he does, making it painfully obvious that he’s hinting at a dirty joke. Manuel wants to grin or roll his eyes, so he does both, but his interest is already sparked either way.

“Are we now?” he damn near purrs, inwardly cursing and blessing the boy for bringing out this crazy affectionate side of his to the surface.

Chris nods affirmatively with a little smirk and pushes the sheet down his legs and off of the bed, the expression on his face open with anticipation and excitement. Manuel doesn’t even think before pressing him down into the mattress and rolling over on top of him, their bodies aligning with the ease provided by their similar frames.

Manuel has his face buried in the boy’s neck, placing big open kisses and small teasing bites on the skin, when Chris squirms wonderfully underneath him. “You’re heavy…” he murmurs, sliding his fingers over the goal keeper’s shoulders and down his back. Before Manuel has a chance to get off of him, Chris presses his lips to the Manuel’s cheek and then leans his head back with a sigh. “I love it.”

The feeling of warmth is back and it spreads throughout Manuel’s entire body, responding to the boy’s admission. They share a steady, long look and kiss again, soft and delightfully slow.

 

The sex they have before check out is wanton and urgent, almost as much as the previous night. Manuel’s hands wander all over Christoph’s body as the boy rides him hard, whining and panting with it, moans of “Manu, ah, Manu…” slipping from his lips like a song.

They barely make it out of bed by eleven; Chris forced to borrow boxers from Manuel and nearly finding himself pinned to the bed again. They exchange wistful little touches and kisses as they get dressed, expecting house keeping’s knock on the door any minute. The younger man goes to get his luggage from his own room and when he brings into Manuel’s room rather than leaving it in front of the door in the hallway, the idea comes to the goalkeeper.

He gives Chris a calculating look, wondering if it’s too early, too soon to just go for it when the younger man pulls his phone out of his jeans and frowns at it.

“Friend asking if I’m on the way back yet.” The boy says like he tastes something bad on his tongue, face scrunching in an adorable, irresistible little sulk. He starts to type back his reply and Manuel knows if he doesn’t speak now; it will be too late after.

“Tomorrow.” He blurts out, stepping closer to Chris where he’s standing beside the bed. The younger man gives him a bright, wide eyed look of surprise that only serves to make Manuel want to pull him closer and squeeze him. The goal keeper opens his mouth to convince him further when there is a knock on the door.

“House keeping!” a male’s voice calls from the other side of the door, and there is a moment of silence. Chris goes to say something to Manuel, but then shakes his head a little and turns toward the door.

“Come back later, please!” he calls out and the goal keeper perks up, hopeful like a teenager; it is almost embarrassing.

After a brief pause the house keeper pipes up again “It is check out time, sir.”

Manuel hopes it isn’t enough to discourage Christoph from extending their little hotel affair.

“Actually, we’ll be staying tonight too, thank you.” Chris smiles through the words, hands finding Manuel’s shirt and pulling him in. Whatever the boy outside says next is lost on them both.

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
